Light in Meranthe: The Hydra's Heart [Crusade vs Pscaela]

[Harm]

The 22nd Century.

While the Monolith and the Nameless Circle met their defeat, Viritas withstood the initial assault and a palpable feeling remained ingrained in the air. What would be their next step? Where would such march of multiple fronts lead the crusade? In the ruins of Ogre Time's town, the Realm of Delphina held their army while the Republic of Paritas expanded their naval front, from the Vigil's shores towards the island of Nilhirra. That palpable feeling, that sensation brewing in the air, was of the imminent battle to come. The scent of iron, and blood.

For the Hydra wouldn't fall so soon.

---

Long ago we have marched upon these same shores. We have fought, we have bled and we have lost so many of our own to their monsters and abominations. I held onto a hope: Under the dul Vique's rule that would change. However, turn around and witness for yourself. Who destroyed the Drakanspire? Who marched towards Altharim's walls while aiding the worst that our land has to offer?

It is no mystery to you, it is no surprise to me, the evil that festers in the heart of Pscaela.
This was our goal all along, and we have now opened the way towards their hold,

The Crescent Isle.

Ships once used commercially were now loaded with armaments of war, gears to lead the Republic towards victory. Their routes, passing between Nilhirra and the Vigil, now head towards dangerous waters as they braved the horizon westward. From north, armies of differing banners and soldiers began to pave their way towards a lone island, following the same route left by the Long Night.

They were coming.

Soon.

Blood would flow.

All men. March.

Pick up your hammer, raise your pitchfork, wield your blade and follow us. To bring our justice of all as one. Will you sit idle while they poison your heart with fear? Or will you hold onto that hope, that brave soul in your chest, and march with the knowledge that there is a path towards a better tomorrow?

This is the way, our way,

To an era freed of their despair.

OBJECTIVE
Destroy the Crescent Isle

---

DATE
To Be Done

[Drive]

Clouds gather across the realm in preperation of reception, a reception that to many will be the last to be held within these lands.

Fog accompanies the clouds above, covering the isle's port, and extending even beyond towards Nihilarra, a bad omen for those involved and especially those marching forth.

The mana in the air is cold, visionary casters can not even stare at the fog for too long - the images it shows, are far too demented.

It doesn't take long for their main forces to arrive, and they are greeted by a silhouette

It is quiet, unfathomably so, staring the expression never changes - visible all the way from Altharim.

"What a way to propose a family reunion, niece.
They do not oft end in slaughter, do they?
You are leading your people in a place they should not step in uninvited.
It is never too late to lead them back, to give them a life worth living.

....

You know, the monsters you were afraid of when you were little...
They shouldn't hurt you anymore, right?
Because I told you no monster can handle how bright you shine.

But I am one of these monsters, little one.

And I have been doing nothing but lying to you all these years.

The men and women you're leading, are to be forewarned.

I take no prisoners.

I will slaughter everyone that aims to harm their freedom." 

The Omnistrate addressed the enemy, before the clouds rumbled and ravaged the weather as they pleased; a storm gathering and approaching, the static in the air is nigh impossible to dispell, and it is a mere omen for what's to come should they continue on their march.

They were more than ready.

And the isle will take the ire of a thousand more, should it prove the necessity of it's existence once more.

---

Date: Sunday, July 6th; 5 PM EST.

[Neighpalm]

North of the Hydra's Heart, Pscaelan scouting parties have begun to turn up missing.
 
Reports rave that the shadows of the forest have teeth, the jaws of Nemea closing around the depraved.
 
 

 

Summer, 2177AC.

 

The ruins of Monolith stir.
 

Nemea's forests are seemingly alive, dancing shadows swallowing men. Guerilla squadrons of Leafblades paving the path towards Pscaela for the larger army, the earth quaking with anticipation. 

From the western seas come the naval ships of the Suladari, the tides especially favorable in the wake of Sirenia's reunited sisters. 

  

Curtains draw on the Crusade's Final Act.
 
The Realm of Delphina marches on Pscaela. 
 
   

[Gunner]

The Remnants of The North Stir Once More... The Banners that once flew high atop the peaks of Mt Grimhjall catch the wind once more.  The Inquisition and any surviving remnant of Drakanspire is called upon to stand alongside the Crusade in this final march against those responsible for the ruin of their home. 

---

Why do we march?
If you have to ask then you haven't been paying attention. 

Honor?

Retribution?

Pride?

All That And More...
The Four Have Not Forgotten... We Have Not Forgotten.
Through Us Their Judgement Is Made Manifest.  
And It Is Coming, Just As I Promised It Would. 

- Inquisitor Suzuka Kazana
 

---

The Inquisition Marches to Bolster The Crusade

[Folian]

Incessantly do these mortals insist on wasting my time; day upon day, night upon night.

Woe upon them.
Woe upon their false Gods.
Woe upon the pathetic shepherds who do naught but prolong the stagnation of Kraus' accursed canvas.

The Hydra's heads are bound together, a part of the same woven tapestry of something greater.
 Light and dark shall clash, as it always has, once more.
Let blood flow upon the canvas and paint a glorious image.
For Mydaea.

The animated artworks of Viritas stir; an unbreathing and restless legion wrought of paint, stone, and depravity.

To Pscaela they march.

The Hydra stands together.

[GriddyCannister]

[lostrozen]

North of the Hydra's Heart, Pscaelan scouting parties have begun to turn up missing.
 
Reports rave that the shadows of the forest have teeth, the jaws of Nemea closing around the depraved.
 
 

 

Summer, 2177AC.

 

The ruins of Monolith stir.
 

Nemea's forests are seemingly alive, dancing shadows swallowing men. Guerilla squadrons of Leafblades paving the path towards Pscaela for the larger army, the earth quaking with anticipation. 

From the western seas come the naval ships of the Suladari, the tides especially favorable in the wake of Sirenia's reunited sisters. 

  

Curtains draw on the Crusade's Final Act.
 
The Realm of Delphina marches on Pscaela. 
 
   

Scarce as they may be, amongst the banners of the Elzara and the Suladari, the militant Wards of Arcadia are attached as auxiliaries to the Realm's primary forces. While not as numerous and not as experienced and hardened, these few volunteers from the vassal of the Realm walk bravely - lead not by the Warden, but by the Keeper, herself. Not at all one for battle cries and glories of war, Camellia Aubreen nevertheless marches as part of the crusade with a singular, clear intent:

Put an end to the Crescent Fortress and let the dawn rise with the end  of this stained chapter of Meranthe's history.